Page 31 of Burn for You (Flirting with Forever 3)

I think at this point, I’ve just become accustomed to my sisters being chin deep in my business. It doesn’t seem like that’s something that will ever change. “Yes. I’ve met someone. But we’re trying to figure out how to actually meet. If that makes sense.”

To be honest, nothing makes sense today. Nothing at all. I can’t stop thinking about the way Piper felt in my arms when we danced last night or when I carried her. The smile that lit up her face as I teased her on the way to the parking lot was easily the best part of my night. I seriously need to figure out this whole thing with Sherlock4Love, or I’ll find myself in over my damn head with both of them.

A while later, I kick back on Mom’s couch to digest my meal and watch a fight on TV. My phone vibrates on my chest. I swear, I’m conditioned to grab it and go right to Tryst, hoping for a message from Sherlock4Love. It’s happened three times today, only for me to be disappointed to find text messages from my friends instead. This time, though, it’s her.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: I’m willing to take the chance.

I jerk to an upright position, not quite trusting what my eyes just read. But there it is, plain as day. She’s willing. She wants to meet me. With my palms sweating, I quickly tap out a response to her.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: When? Where? I’m more ready than you know. Don’t be surprised if I haul off and kiss you the minute I set eyes on you.

Fuck, I hope that wasn’t too eager.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Same. That escalated quickly, didn’t it?

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: It just means we are ready to bite the bullet and do this.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: What if we meet and something’s not right?

/> Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Like we don’t get along? Because we already get along just fine.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Maybe. But … what if there’s no chemistry?

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: There’s going to be chemistry. I have no doubt there will be fucking fireworks.

Prof.M. to Sherlock4Love: Saturday? 7p.m.? You pick the place.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Giarelli’s?

And just like that, I have a real date in just one week with the elusive Sherlock4Love.

Chapter 17

Piper

I’ve been living in a rapidly fluctuating state since I made the date with Prof.M. for Saturday night. One minute, I’m full of crazy anxiety and the next, absolute excitement. I have an actual real, live date with a real, live man. He’s about to become way more than a fictional character to me, and nervous butterflies flutter around in my stomach every time I think about it.

With every day that creeps closer toward Saturday, my emotions intensify.

Of course, it doesn’t help that while I’m looking forward to this weekend, and finding out who the man is that I’ve been fantasizing about, I’ve also got to get through this week—and that includes dealing with Damon.

I shift in my desk chair as I pull together some of the final details for the field trip. Hadleigh, Sawyer, and I have worked out a list of kids for each bus, permission slips are in and accounted for, money for a meal on the road has been collected. I’ve got everything as organized as I can get it.

Once I convinced Hadleigh to include me and Jake, I’d insisted on taking over some of this stuff for her. Thank goodness we are friends and she understands I need to show Jake that I’m giving it my all. I’m a team player, but I can lead, too.

So far, I haven’t seen whatever Damon was referring to with “our” field trip. There’s no evidence to imply he’s going with us. I haven’t dared ask Jake; I don’t want to come off seeming petty by not wanting him to come.

Every time Damon tries to peek over my shoulder, I lean my elbow on the desk and let the curtain of my hair conceal what I’m working on.

He clears his throat, and I can tell he’s scooted himself closer to me. “Are we not going to talk about what happened at the dance?”

I turn my head to glance at him. There he is, looking and smelling completely delicious. Why does he have to be so freaking hot? “What are you talking about? About how we got locked out?”

Damon cringes, gritting his teeth. “Well, no. But about that—I found out that Elena pulled the doorstop I’d left there. She thought—well, I won’t claim to know the inner workings of a seventeen-year-old girl’s mind, but she confessed she did it.”

I give a small nod. I had almost given in to the idea that maybe Damon had closed the door behind us himself—that he wanted to be out there alone with me—but I guess that was an incorrect hypothesis. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell why kids do things.” Without meaning to, my knee brushes his. “Sorry.”

Why did that one little touch—of our knees, no less—send a fresh jolt of liquid need running through my body? I set my jaw and turn away from him.

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